Anastasia
by firerwolf
Summary: Stories of Anastasia Novara's life from her childhood, her career as a soldier, and her joining Crimson team. Rated team for serious mature themes.
1. Anastasia

Author's note: So quick explanation, this is a new series that's a collection of stories about my Spartan IV, Anastasia Novara. This story is rated T because of some serious sections of these stories. I don't own anything from Halo. Read and comment, please. I really do appreciate it and like feedback.

Anastasia

The wind rushed over the field that constituted a firing range. The smell of gun powder filled Anastasia's nose and stood at the table that was set up. She stared down at the pistol on the table. She reached down and took the weapon in her hand. It fit perfectly in her hand, or maybe she'd just spent so much of her life with a gun in her hand that she'd just gotten used to it.

Anastasia raised the gun, took aim, and fired. She emptied the clip into the target. She kept the gun raised, still looking at the human shaped target before her. The gun slowly lowered to hang limply at her side. She wasn't really thinking about the target or the gun. Her mind had been restless for the past few months as the date grew closer and closer.

"Wish I could shoot like you," a voice to her left said. Anastasia raised her gun and pointed it at the voice. The man didn't say anything, didn't even flinch. "You seem a bit more on edge than usual, Ana. What's on your mind?"

Anastasia didn't lower the weapon right away. She stared at the man for a couple seconds before she slowly lowered the weapon. "Nothing that's your business, Ted." She switched on the safety and placed it on the table. "What do you want?"

"What, I'm not allowed to come and talk to a beautiful woman?" Ted smiled at her as he moved a bit closer. "Come on, Ana, give me a chance. We can make this work."

"No we can't," Anastasia snapped. "It's over, Ted, just get used to it." She started to take apart the weapon and inspect it. She'd always found that cleaning her gun calmer her, helped her keep her thoughts focused and organized.

"Wow, did you get another tattoo?" Ted moved before Anastasia could react. He pushed up her sleeve where her newest tattoo was. She took a step away from him and looked to the man. Ted's mouth hung open in shock. "Is that a UNSC logo? What is wrong with you, Ana?" Ted's voice fell to a whispered hiss. "What if your dad saw this? You know what he would do."

"Of course I know, but he doesn't control me." Anastasia put the gun back together and holstered it on her waist. "In two weeks he will never be able to control me again." Ted furrowed his brow and frowned but Anastasia could tell he didn't understand. "I'm not like you, Ted. I don't do this to make my dad happy. I do this because when I turn eighteen I'm joining the marines."

Ted looked shocked by the news. "You're joining the enemy?" he nearly shouted.

"Keep your voice down before someone hears you." Anastasia looked around to be sure that no one had heard him. "If my dad found out you know what he would do. And they aren't the enemy."

"What are you talking about, Ana? Of course they're the enemy." Ted took a step back from her. "How can you not see that with everything you know?"

"Because everything I know tells me they aren't the enemy, the Covenant is. They are out there, destroying worlds and killing innocent people. You're just blind to that because of the lies you've been fed."

"My dad says all that stuff about the Covenant is fake. He says they're using it to try to distract us so they can crush our forces." Ted moved over to a fence behind the table, opposite the targets.

"They're real, Ted, I've seen them. The scar on my shoulder isn't from a dog, it's from one of the alien species." Anastasia's eyes unfocused as she remembered the attack. "I was three, about to turn four, when they attacked. It was ugly, like a screwed up bird or something. It probably would have eaten me if an ODST hadn't put a bullet through its brain. They burned my world and we ran. That's why we're here on the planet, because ours is gone."

"Why did you never tell me? Why hasn't your dad told anyone?" Ted asked.

"Because my dad told me to be quiet about it, but I don't give a shit about what he wants me to do any more." Anastasia reached back and pulled the hair tie, allowing her long hair to fall free. If she left it pulled back for to long it felt like it tugged at her scalp and made her head hurt. It made it harder to think and made her mad, or maybe that was just the thoughts of her father that had her blood boiling. "My father is so obsessed with his stupid conspiracy theories he doesn't care. He would see our species burned from the universe before he'd ever give up his pointless hatred for the military."

"Ana, I just don't understand. You'd be turning against your family?" Ted moved to stand beside her. "I don't want to fight you, Anastasia."

"My home is not a family, it's a dictatorship," Anastasia countered as she turned toward him. "I'd you don't want to fight me then don't. You're not an animal, Ted, you're a person. You can make choices for yourself. Chose not to follow them blindly." Ted looked away from her and looked to the ground. She knew he'd never a real away from the insurrection. He was obedient to his father who wanted him to one day help lead the rebellion. "If that's your choice." Anastasia turned and walked away from him, heading toward the paths that led to the supply sheds to put away her weapon.

Anastasia didn't return home right away. She dropped off her gun and headed out into the forest. There was a small grotto that only she knew about, her secret place. She liked to Sid in the silence and just let it calm her. She stayed there for a couple hours before she finally made her way home.

When she reached her home she found her father waiting in the living room for her. She stopped in the entry way, waiting. He stared at her from his seat and slowly stood up. "Anastasia, you and I have things to discuss."

Ted hit the dusty ground, grunting at the impact. Anastasia stood over him, fists clenched and ready to hit him again. "I can't believe I trusted you? Did you even try not to go blabbing it to your father?"

"Ana, please, it's not like that. Ted sat up but didn't date stand back up.

"Stop calling me that. You aren't my friend you traitor!" Anastasia took a step toward him. "You probably have me up without a fight, you coward. This is what you am d all of the rebellion are. You're selfish cowards. You hide in the shadows and harm the innocent because you don't think your lives are good enough. Well all our lives suck but not all of us are hurting people that are innocent." She reached down and grabbed the collar of his shirt. Anastasia pulled him up so he could see her face closer. She pointed to the bruise on her cheek that was red and had started to blacken a bit. "This, what happened, is on you. You know my father, you know what he was going to do, but you still ratted me out. This is your fault and I hope you're proud of yourself."

She released him and stood up. "I'm leaving, and I'm not coming back. If you want to stay here and be their blind sheep then go ahead. But know that I'll be ready, gun in hand, to stop you when you take action. Even if I have to kill you to stop you." She left him on the ground as she grabbed her bag. She was sure she'd find somewhere to stay, anywhere that she could spend the next two weeks until she was old enough to I list then everything would be fine. She'd join up and finally she'd be free of all of it. She wouldn't have to worry about her father, the bruises would fade, she wouldn't have to hide her hatred for the rebellion, and she'd finally have a purpose that felt honorable. For now though she'd focus on finding a place to spend the night.


	2. Eridanus II

Eridanus II

Anastasia sat at the kitchen, coloring away with her crayons. She was intently focused on her picture, busying herself while her mother washed the dishes. Anastasia was a bit proud of her picture. She thought it looked a lot like the logo she was copying. Coloring was always the thing her mother fell back on when she needed Anastasia to be busied.

The picture was suddenly pulled out from under her crayon and Anastasia looked up to see her mother. Anastasia let out a cry of distress as her mother started to rip the picture apart. "What are you thinking, Anastasia. If your father saw this..." Her mother shook her head. "Drawing UNSC symbols," she muttered as she moved across the room and threw the scraps away.

Anastasia jumped out of her seat and ran to the trash and tried to get her picture back. Her mother grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the trash. "Stop that, the woman admonished. "You're going to a time out." Anastasia was pulled over to the corner. "Now stand here until I tell you otherwise." Anastasia's shoulders slumped and she turned to face the corner and wait until her mother told her she didn't have to.

Anastasia wasn't sure how long she'd been standing in the corner when the front door opened. She didn't have to look to know that it was her father coming home. The steps were heavier and she could hear his boots. Anastasia tensed and waited to find out if he would notice her. "What did you do?" Her father's voice was deep and angry.

Anastasia didn't look away from the wall. "I drew a bird," she answered honestly. "Mom got upset and I was put in time out."

Anastasia could hear her father leave the room. There was shouting from the other room and Anastasia hoped her father wouldn't get mad at her mother. She couldn't hear anything from her which hopefully wasn't a bad sign. She could hear her father ranting about the UNSC and she knew she'd be standing in the corner for a while. Her father would rant for a long time about the UNSC. She didn't really understand much about it but he apparently cared a lot about it. He would always talk about her brother, who she'd never met. He always said the UNSC had done something to him and that was why he died. She didn't know what to think, just went along to avoid his anger.

A sound grew in the distance and Anastasia turned away from the wall, as though able to turn toward the source. It seemed to come from everywhere around her and bounced off the wall. Anastasia could hear her father talking but it was too muffled for her to understand. The notice grew louder and Anastasia felt a fear, though she didn't know why. Her parents moved into the kitchen and her father moved toward a window.

"I should have known they would do something like this. They probably are planning some sort of attack on us or putting us under military rule. I have to find Tranor. We need to gather and prepare to defend ourselves." Her father moved to the back door and exited the house.

"Stay there, Ana. I'm going to see if Mrs. Smith needs help." Her mother moved out of the house as well to go check on their elderly neighbor. The old woman lived alone and Anastasia's mother often went to go check on her after bad weather or events like it since Mrs. Smith didn't have anyone else. Anastasia didn't mind, it meant she was alone, and could find out what was going on.

Anastasia tried to look out the kitchen window but she wasn't tall enough to see anything. She decided to chance being caught and moved into the living room. She looked out the front window in amazement. In the sky hung great battle ships. They moved a bit out of orbit, facing away from the planet. She didn't understand why her father thought they were attacking. A trio of Pelicans rumbled over her house and she felt it shake the ground under her. He transports sped across the sky toward the main city not far away. Anastasia watched them, fascinated. She'd never seen anything like it and it was impressive to her.

Her wonder was suddenly replaced with terror as a bright light hit the side of one of the frigates in the sky and there were momentary bursts of fire before the vacuum of space shifted it out. A ship so in-human appeared in the sky, making a close pass to the planet. It was purple and sleek, looking so natural but unnatural at the same time, Anastasia could see little dots falling down from the larger ship. They covered the sky like dust particle illuminated by a beam of sunlight. The dots dropped town toward the planet and some were growing larger. There was an odd sound that Anastasia had never heard before and a purple craft, about the same size as a Pelican moved down her street.

The odd craft stopped in the center of the street a few houses down and the sides of it opened up. The figures that dropped out were not human, that was for sure. Some of them were bulky, with large hands and a large alike on their backs while the others were thin and looked like some kind of bird. Anastasia panicked, not sure what to do. She ran back into the kitchen and back to her corner. Her mother would return and she'd know what to do.

Anastasia fought to ignore the primal desire to run away, get away from the strange things she'd seen in the street. The front door opened and Anastasia waited for her mother to come into the room. She didn't want to look disobedient. Instead she heard a deep voice way something in a language she'd never heard. Anastasia knew that something was wrong. She looked around the room and tried to figure out what she should do. She finally turned to the cabinets and moved into one of them. She shut the cabinet door behind her and huddled up as best she could.

There were heavy steps on the tile floor of the kitchen. Anastasia cracked the door open and peeked out. She could see a long muscular leg that seemed to have two knees. There was sleek blue armor on the creature's leg and two large toes. Anastasia looked up the invader's body. It was tall, taller than any human Anastasia had ever seen. Its hand had four fingers and gripped a large blue gun. The creature spoke, its voice deep and its words unintelligible. What caught Anastasia's eyes was the creature's mouth which was split into four parts. There was something creepy about the way the parts of the thing's mouth moved. It gestured and the smaller creatures entered the room. They weren't exactly short, all of the creatures were much taller than Anastasia.

The larger creature moved on but two of the medium sized creature, the one that looked like a bird, stayed in the room. Anastasia could see their backs facing her. They seemed to be talking in high pitched voices and seemed to be distracted. The instinct to get out of the room was so great Anastasia couldn't deny it any longer. She opened the cabinet door slowly and when it was open Anastasia made a run for it. She made it across the room and could hear the screeching shouts of the creatures. She'd made it into the living room before claws grabbed her shoulder and teeth suddenly sank into her shoulder.

The events that followed were a blur to Anastasia. She knew the creature was trying to eat her but the creature's head exploded into blood. Things blurred and someone came to her aid. She didn't remember much about the person, only the bird that she focused on. The eagle that hovered over her, the same one she'd drawn earlier, painted onto the soldier's chest plate.

The next thing she remembered the soldier was holding her. She could feel that they were leaving and she was sitting in the lap of the soldier. She reached out and her hand touched the eagle on the soldier's armor. The marines hand moved over hers gently. "It's going to be fine, kid."

Anastasia looked up and was surprised by the ODST helmet. She looked around them and could see at least five ODST in the pelican. There were a few other survivors and Anastasia could see her mother sitting across from her. The woman was staring at the ground, blind to all things around her. Anastasia turned back to the image of the eagle and shifted in the soldier's arms so her face was against the image.

"You like the eagle?" The ODST asked. "Well the eagle's here to protect you. Wrap its ads around you and keep you safe," he assured her.

"And you're in luck," another ODST spoke up. "We're warmer than other eagles. The pods we come down in warm us up nicely." She felt the second soldier place a hand on her knee soothingly.

The next thing she remembered she was in an infirmary. Her shoulder was bandaged and things were busy around her. She didn't know where her family was, only that they weren't there. She sat in her bed, alone for a long time. Medics came in, checked stats, and then left. The first person to talk to her was the ODST that had saved her.

"So how are you doing, kid?" The soldier asked. Anastasia just shrugged a bit. She didn't really know how she was doing. She didn't know where her family was, her home had been attacked, and she had been hurt. "Well I'm glad to see you made it. I was worried." The man hesitated for a moment and then pulled out a small cloth. "You like the eagle, right?" Anastasia nodded in response. "Well take this. Keep it and remember that the UNSC is protecting you, keeping you safe."

Anastasia took the cloth and looked down at the embroidered UNSC eagle. She ran her fingers over it and looked to the soldier. "Thank you."

The ODST smiled at her. "No problem kid." He reached over and ruffled her hair a bit. "Stay strong." Anastasia nodded again and the ODST left her to get some rest. She curled up on her side and clutched the cloth to her chest as she went to sleep.

It would be some time until her family would visit her. Her father only seemed more upset than ever, muttering about it all being the UNSC trying to turn his daughter against him. Her mother was silent, still distant and not really looking at Anastasia. Their visit wasn't long and she slept for a long time until she was fully recovered at which point she went into cryo with the others for the trip to Reach.

Anastasia stared down at the cloth in her hand. Her finger moved over the embroidered image. "What's that?" Anastasia looked back at Evelyn when she spoke.

Anastasia frowned at the woman and clutched the cloth in her hand. "It's nothing, just an old keepsake. Nothing important."

"Well that's an obvious lie," Evelyn said as she moved over to her own bed. "But I won't pry."

"Good, I'd hate to have to hit you for being nosy." Anastasia lay down on her bed and held the cloth to her chest as she settled in to sleep.


	3. Wolves

Wolves

Anastasia sat in silence on her bunk, quietly reading, back against the wall, supported by the pillow she'd put there to make herself more comfortable, and book held just close enough to block out the world around her. She was fully engaged in the words on the page, escaping the gray metal box of the barracks to the world laid out on the page by a skilled author. This book was one of her favorites and she'd read it several times already, loving it every time. When Anastasia had been a kid her father had forbid her from reading the books, so of course she'd read them all. She'd even at one point owned them all in paper but her father had found them. He'd made her watch as he burned each one before punishing her for the defiance. Now that she was older though she owned them again, and just to spite him she owned them in paper.

The books had always given her a safe place away from reality. She loved the tails of Lords and Kings, the twisted motives of the characters, and the web of lies. She'd made a particular bond with one character that she had related to easily as a child. The character had a brother with a bad temper, she'd been just a tool to him for most of her life, and she eventually found her own strength. Anastasia had dreamed as a child of following that lead and becoming strong like the woman in the book and be able to stand up to the things in her life. She used to dream of dragons, of burning the things she hated, but that was years ago and she had learned better. Harsh reality had destroyed those dreams but still Anastasia had immortalized that old dream, that lesson to be strong, in a tattoo of a dragon on her ankle.

She had just started a new chapter when one of the other occupants in the room shouted. Anastasua lowered her book and glared at the source of the voice. "Hey, I'm trying to read," she shouted at the men.

The larger of the two men turned toward her. "You can go back to reading when Shadow's done cursing me out. He's almost finished losing all his money." The two men were sitting on their bunks playing cards on a table between them.

"I don't care," Anastasia snapped. "Keep your mouths shut before I break your jaw." She turned her attention back to her book and tried to ignore the two men and the string of curses as they continued to play.

She'd just started getting into the chapter when the door to the barracks opened and two men stepped in. Anastasia tore her gaze from her book as she realized one was their CO. The other man was unfamiliar and she frowned as she realized who he must be. "All right, Mutts, we've got out new teammate," their CO announced.

Anastasia studied the new soldier and frowned, not happy with him. He looked to be in his early twenties, younger than Anastasia, younger than anyone on the squad probably. He looked inexperienced and she wondered if he was fresh out of boot. He had light green eyes and his blond hair was recently shaved. There were no visible scars and he had a confident look on his face that annoyed Anastasia.

"Oh, so we got a new pup," Shadow joked and he grinned at the new soldier. Shadow was a fairly well tested soldier, having been with the squad for almost a year. His black hair needed to be cut but he'd put it off until their squad leader ordered him to. His dark brown eyes stared intently at the new soldier as though trying to see through him. "Hey Gray, how about double or nothing? Who dies first, Rookie or Hot Pocket."

Gray glanced toward the new soldier and then to Rookie who had been minding his own business, cleaning his boots, until he'd been mentioned. Gray scratched at the stubble on his chin as he considered the bet. He was the oldest member of the squad at the age of thirty-one but despite his name his hair was still a dirty blond. He'd made jokes of the stress of their job making him go gray but so far there was no indication it was actually happening. There was a jagged scar from the hinge of his jaw to the space between his ear and his eye. Gray had been in the military long enough that he had fought rebels before humanity even knew there was intelligent life bent on killing them. "Sure, why not. I say Rookie goes first. Hot Pocket might have a grace period before he goes."

"Naw," Shadow said looking over to the new soldier. "Look at Hot Pocket, he's a kid. The Covenant will eat him alive." Anastasia unconsciously scowled at the comment. She glanced over to Hot Pocket who's confident look was gone. Rookie was indifferent, having grown accustomed to the taunting.

"That's enough," their CO snapped. Alpha, as they called him, stood tall and imposing, every bit the leader he was supposed to be. His brown hair was cut short to the prefect length, his ice blue eyes held at firm gaze that was imposing but not too stern, and he was well built like a proper ODST should. "Get settled on a cot," Alpha instructed Hot Pocket. "I'll go check what orders we have." With that Alpha moved out of the room.

Hot Pocket moved over to a cot and sat down, making himself comfortable. Anastasia returned to her book, half listening to the conversation between the two newest members of the team. "But why am I Hot Pocket if I'm a rookie?" the new soldier asked. "What's the difference?"

"You're Hot Pocket because you'll cook in your pod like a microwave meal," Shadow answered. "Your pod will roast you just right so the Covenant will be too busy eating you and we'll be able to save the day."

Hot Pocket turned to Rookie but Anastasia couldn't see his face from where she was lying. Rookie looked unsure, not positive he could give Hot Pocket tips or if that was breaking the unspoken code of the squad. "The pod is unforgiving," was Rookie's response.

"So is it true what you guys are called? I heard some people talking about you guys and what you do. Is it true?" There was an edge of excitement to Hot Pocket's voice which annoyed Anastasia.

"Not Exactly," Gray answered. "They call us Hell Wolves but really we're just Wolves. Shadow Wolf, Gray Wolf, and Fire Wolf. But the rumors about what we do are true. We drop into places being attacked by Covenant to push them back and allow evacuations."

"Can I ask something?" Hot Pocket didn't wait for an answer. "Why wolves? Why not something like a phoenix or griffon? Wolves are just so normal."

"Because phoenix and griffons are myths, lies, while wolves are real," Anastasia spoke up. "We are real, mortal people. We don't' pretend to be some animal of legend. We are wolves."

"That and the story is that three of the first members of the squad had wolf tattoos," Shadow added. "Why don't you show him what I mean, Fire?"

Anastasia shut her book, realizing she wasn't going to get any reading done. "Bite me," she responded as she put the book away. It was true that the nomination of the wolf as their name had come from them having tattoos of wolves, which had been completely by chance, but that was long ago and she didn't like to look back on the past. She also wasn't too fond of showing off her tattoos. Each one meant something to her and she wasn't willing to answer the questions that came with people seeing them. The one of her back was a wolf head that, after she'd become an ODST, she'd surrounded in fire like the ODST skull. She had originally gotten it for the same book series that had given her the dragon tattoo. In the series there were wolves that some of the characters owned, they protected them from bad things or when they were upset. Anastasia knew there was no wolf to save her from the things in her life so she'd gotten the wolf's head to remind herself that she had to be her own wolf, protect herself. It had been her first tattoo and was still her favorite.

"I would if Alpha wouldn't get jealous," Shadow replied. Anastasia stood up and clenched her fists. That was crossing a line and Shadow was well aware that Anastasia didn't like to be crossed. He put up his hand to ward off her attacking him. "All right, I'm backing down."

"Let that be a lesson, Hot Pocket. Don't mess with Fire or you'll get burned," Gray warned. He grinned and chuckled at his own bad joke.

Anastasia was about to respond when Alpha moved into the room. "Get suited up. The Covenant are in system and we're being dropped in. Move it, marines." The Wolves snapped to action, moving through the ship. They made their way to the lockers and changed into their armor, securing everything in place. Anastasia double checked that her gear was in place and followed Shadow, who always made sure he was first to get to the pods. Anastasia grabbed grenades, a DMR, and a pistol. She stored them away in her pod and the marines took their place. The doors shut and Anastasia heard her pod seal, securing her in her cocoon of metal. In here it was quiet and she was alone and she let herself relax against the padding in the pod looking to the red light. When it turned green they'd fall and all Hell would break lose.

Alpha's voice broke the quiet. "The Covenant are expected to reach the planet fires so it will be a hot drop. We're heading to a major city to maximize how many civilians we can assist. ETA two minutes." He paused for just a second. "May the odds be ever in your favor." It was the traditional last words of the Wolves before a drop. Someone always said it until the new leader caught on and started to use it. Anastasia couldn't remember where it had come from or who had started it, it just felt like they'd always said it.

Anastasia didn't count, knowing that counting would only make it worse. The light turned green and there was no time to prepare. Suddenly she was weightless and then there was a force pushing up on her as she fell. The force few as her pod gained speed and she could feel the heat seeping in. Her team was unusual as they didn't listen to music as they dropped like most other ODST squads. It wasn't that they had always dropped in silence but the current group couldn't agree on a song so they'd settled for none. Anastasia braced herself for the pod to slow her down. The chute opened and her thrusters activated, jerking her violently. She relaxed a tiny bit, knowing the most dangerous part was over.

"Shit," she heard cursed over the radio. The voice belonged to Alpha and they knew what it meant. He didn't say another word, accepting his undeniable fate like a soldier. Anastasia looked down to where she could see his pod speeding toward the planet, pulling far ahead of the rest of them. Flames licked over the outside of the pod and she could see the metal turning red as it heated. Alpha tried to keep quiet but when the heat started to burn through, burn him inside the metal, he screamed. There was a particular sort of scream that came from burning alive in a drop pod, the kind of scream that stayed with you. Each soldier screamed just a bit different depending on their level of panic, pain, and fear. Alpha's scream was all pain, no panic or fear to it, just pain. It wasn't as bad as the panicked screams of some ODST that Anastasia had heard over the years but she knew it would stay with her. She listened until the heat melted away the electronics in Alpha's pod and the signal died.

Anastasia's pod landed in the middle of a road, cracking the asphalt in a wide circle. Anastasia hit the release on her door and it was forcefully jettisoned, hitting the ground with a loud thud. She moved out of her pod, grabbing her weapons with a practiced ease of years of drops. She moved off over the broken street, heading to the nav marker on her HUD where they were to meet up. She met up with a small group of Grunts on her way but they were easy kills with her pistol, killed before they could even raise their plasma pistols. She arrived at the marker and found Gray waiting for her. The others hadn't arrived yet so Anastasia took a seat to give them a chance to catch up.

Gray was staring out at the sky, his gaze distant and unfocused. He didn't look to Anastasia just watched the city around them. There were alarm sirens blaring through the city, sound of plasma shots, and she could hear some cars as some people tried to drive toward the escape shuttles. They were of no concern to the squad, only those that were under attack were part of their job. Anastasia stopped to check her gear had made it through fine, being sure that nothing was damaged or would jam. "How many marines have you heard burn?" Gray asked out of nowhere.

Anastasia looked to the older soldier and frowned. "Lost count," she answered as she stood up. She looked down one of the roads and spotted Shadow running toward them. She ignored the way Gray looked at her, that sort of unfamiliar look that questioned if she was joking or not. She'd gotten plenty of odd looks over the years because of the way she handled the death of teammates so she was used to it and now found it easy to ignore.

"So you're in charge now?" Gray asked as Shadow joined them. Anastasia shook her head in response. "But you're senior soldier, how are you not leader? If Alpha's dead who's supposed to lead us?"

Anastasia scanned the area looking for the two newer members of the squad. "I don't lead. I don't like taking the safety of others into my own hands. I'm responsible for me and you and Shadow can decide which of you leads," Anastasia explained. Neither Shadow nor Gray had been around when the last leader of the Wolves had died so they wouldn't know. If Sky were here she would have understood. She'd been there when the leader before Alpha had died but unfortunately a plasma grenade had taken Sky some months ago. Anastasia wasn't a leader, it just didn't suit her. The role required getting attached to the members of a team in the way Anastasia wasn't comfortable forcing. "Besides, you're more senior than me."

There was a bit of silence before Shadow spoke. "So what's the plan, Old Man?"

The group set out across the city toward where Phantoms seemed to be going. They made radio contact with the others and changed their meeting location to their new destination. Their trek was met with resistance in the form of Grunts, Jackals, and a couple Ghosts that all were easily stopped by the ODST. There were a few civilians that they were able to direct to the safer paths and lead a few patrols away from civilians in hiding. The three of them had been working together for long enough that they'd learned how to act and react to each other's movements. It took them nearly a half hour to reach the position that seemed to be what the Covenant had been attacking. The roads were burnt, windows broken, and doors forced open. All signs of Covenant looking for civilians to kill. There was nothing left alive and it was a familiar sight for Anastasia, the Covenant having torn through the area leaving behind just burn marks, bits of meat, and blood.

"Seems they went that way," Anastasia observed. "If we hurry we can catch up to them and at least delay them giving civilians a chance."

Gray nodded and suddenly turned to his right, assault rifle raised and scanning the area. Anastasia raised her gun and turned to the same direction, searching for anything. She didn't see any enemies but something had caught Gray's attention so she remained on guard. They didn't spook easily so for a reaction like his the man must have been sure he'd seen something. There was a flash of light and Anastasia turned toward Gray, finding two blades of light stabbing through the man's chest. There was an odd movement behind Gray and Anastasia realized it was a stealth elite. She'd only met them a few times before but they were almost completely invisible and experts in being silent. She'd heard soldiers talk of enemies killing entire teams with ease and no one even seeing so much as a shimmer of their camouflage. The elite pulled its blade from Gray's chest and the marine fell to the ground.

The elite moved forward but it was too fast. Anastasia only got off one shot before the Elite raised its weapon and swung its sword. Anastasia dove to the side but she felt the blade slice through her side. She fell to the ground, her gun sliding across the road and out of reach, as the Elite loomed over her, prepared to finish her off. Gunfire pierced the air and the Elite turned away from Anastasia to Shadow. The bullets hit the alien's personal energy shield and it shimmered a bit but held strong. The alien darted toward the male marine, roaring in anger. Anastasia turned to her gun and tried to grab it, wanting to give her teammate whatever back up she could. Shadow screamed and she looked back to see that he was hanging limply from the Elite's grip. Blood seeped down Shadow's armor and Anastasia knew he was dead. There was just too much blood for him to be alive.

The Elite turned toward Anastasia and moved toward her. She turned back to her weapon and scrambled toward it. She'd just grabbed it when a foot landed on her back, pinning her down to the hard road. She looked over her shoulder and could see the Elite drawing its blade back. There was motion in the corner of her eye and she looked over just in time to see Rookie charging forward. He slammed a rock into the side of the Elite's helmet, causing it to stumble back and making its energy shield shimmer brightly before it vanished, overloaded by the force. Anastasia recognized the sound of a DMR and could see blood spout from the Elite as it tried to regain its senses. Rookie smacked it again in the head with the rock to keep it stunned, the force of the blow breaking one of the alien's mandibles. Anastasia rolled over and aimed, firing at the alien. Their rounds tore through the Elite's head and neck, killing it.

Rookie moved over to Anastasia and checked her side. "Hot Pocket, bring me the med kit. Shadow had it." Hot Pocket did as he was instructed and Rookie retrieved the biofoam from the kit. Anastasia felt him inject it, ignoring the fire that spread over her side as the foam filled her wound.

Anastasia stood, her hand going to her side for a second as she adjusted to the pain. Her suit was covered with blood but it had stopped flowing which was good enough. "Good shooting, Rookie." She moved over to Gray's body. She picked up the assault rifle and moved back over to the pair. "Here, Stone, arm yourself. That rock's not going to stop a Wraith." The two others looked at each other and then nodded, understanding. Anastasia motioned down the street, the way they'd been heading before. "The Covies are that way. If we hurry we can still do some good." The others nodded and Anastasia took off at a brisk jog, wanting to make sure the mission wasn't a complete failure; Stone and Rookie following close behind.


	4. Fire

Fire

Anastasia sat down on her cot and glanced around the room at her new teammates. They were all a bit on edge as this would be their first mission together. They'd been training sir some time, had worked out their differences, and after a long verbal debate had decided to call themselves wolves. Now they were prepping to be fully deployed for their first real mission. This was going to be the first real mission that Anastasia would be going on. She'd trained, and then trained more in ODST training, and then a bit more with the wolves. Now it was time to put that training to the test.

Anastasia looked over to their team leader, First Sergeant Borstarn, or Father as most of them had nicknamed him. Anastasia refused to call him that, he was nothing like a father. The Sergeant was a good man who had been supportive and strong, without being threatening. She'd chosen just to call him Sarge. He was one of two members of the team that had previous experience. Anastasia was only nineteen, straight out of training, but Sarge was almost thirty with a couple encounters with the Covenant under his belt. He had training and Anastasia knew that they would all relying on it on the mission. The only other soldier with experience was the second-in-command, a surly ODST who'd made a half dozen drops in his life, though some of those had been against rebels. He was at least in his fifties, maybe older, but Anastasia had never asked. The wolves had stated to call him XO despite the fact he wasn't an XO.

A red light flashed at one end of the room and Sarge stood up. "All right, Wolves, get in gear. It's now or never."

Anastasia snapped up, moving with the others down toward their pods. They had known that the signal would indicate they needed to get to their pods so they were all already suited up and ready to go. Anastasia felt an odd mixture of excitement and terror. She'd never done an actual drop but at the same time she wanted to get into combat, wanted to kill Covies. They reached the pod room and Anastasia grabbed her weapons. She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and she looked to see it belonged to Sarge. It was a calming hand, and it steadied her nerves. He nodded slightly and moved away s Anastasia paused for only a second before she moved to her pod and secured her weapons. She leaned back into the pod and secured herself in before sealing the hatch.

The nervous feeling grew and she gripped the handles inside the pod. "We've got Covies in the planet," Sarge's voice informed them. "Our job is to go down and shoot anything that isn't human. This is what we've trained for, so give 'em hell."

The radio communications cut off and was replaced by heavy metal music. Anastasia focused on the music, letting the heavy drums and electric guitar sooty her nerves some. She wasn't looking at the light when it turned green and the sudden drop caught her off guard. Her hands tensed and her training kicked it. There wasn't much to do other than stay calm and wait to hit the ground. The pod shook and she could feel the increasing force. She tensed and waited for her chute to open. She was pulled back suddenly as her chute opened and slowed her fall.

She'd been falling for a few seconds when something went wrong. She felt her pod start to shake and it felt like it was spinning. Anastasia felt panic, knowing there was nothing she could do. She felt a sudden jerk and heard metal snap. She could feel the forces on her grow and the temperature in the pod rose. Anastasia started to sweat and she could feel her skin burning. She would have screamed but sound seemed to be out of reach. She could see flames rushing over the window of the pod and she could feel them slipping through cracks into the pod to rush past her. She closed her eyes and just waited for the end to come. She continued to fall, until she suddenly stopped. Her head slammed against the hatch of the pod and everything went black.

Anastasia didn't know how much later it was when she woke up as her HUD wasn't working and she could see a large crack along her visor. There was blood in her right eye that made it hard to see, her head hurt like she'd just concrete face down, and her skin was uncomfortable where it had partially burned. She was having trouble focusing or thinking straight. She hit the release buttons and the hatch jettisoned. She heard shattering glass and pulled herself up, out of the pod. She dropped back in as a shard of glass stick into her hand. She looked at the jagged shard and carefully pulled it out. Anastasia searched for a med pack but cursed as she realized she didn't have one. They had put medical packs in two of the pods in case one burned but she wasn't luck enough to have one. She stood up and looked out the opening of her pod. She had landed and her pod was resting on its back, surrounded by glass. She guessed that she'd hit the sand, slid, melted the sand, and it had created a layer of glass around her pod. Anastasia's gaze turned toward the sky and she could see clouds and Covenant crafts. She couldn't tell the time of day or how much time had passed since she'd fallen.

Anastasia pulled herself out of her pod and she lay down on the warped glass of the melted sand. She didn't understand how she was alive but she was. She ignored the glass that broke under her weight and stabbed into any flesh it could. Anastasia checked to see if any of her weapons made it. Her assault rifle was partially melted and the only thing that seemed to have made it through we're a pistol with one clip of ammunition and a single frag grenade. She knew it was bad but he pounding in her head seemed to keep thought away enough that how bad her situation was didn't really dawn on her. She tired to get to her feet but failed, deciding to crawl away from the drop pod. She moved toward some black, jagged rocks that stuck up out of the ground. Her armor would best blend in with the stone and she needed to hide. She was injured and fighting wasn't a good idea, he sluggish movements were evidence of that.

Anastasia reached the rock after what felt like forever. She leaned against the rock and was just grateful nothing had come to check out her pod. She tested her radio but it had a very weak signal. Still, it was her best chance. She clicked on her radio. "She simply used a series of beeps to put out an SOS and set it on a loop. Her breathing was heavy, her limbs were stiff, and her thoughts were fuzzy.

She had just started to slip into unconsciousness when she heard a barking sound. Her eyes snapped open as she recognized the sound of a Grunt. Anastasia tensed and tried to keep still. Her hand gripped the pistol a bit tighter, aware that one clip might not be enough. She waited, planned, and hoped that they wouldn't even come close to her. She wasn't so lucky. A group of three Grunts, two Jackals, and a single minor Elite moved toward her pod. The overzealous Grunts raced forward and they jumped about as the bottoms of their feet touched the broken glass. One of them turned and Anastasia could tell she was caught. The Grunt barked and raised its plasma pistol. Anastasia raised her own pistol.

Three shots and the Grunts went down. The Jackals squawked in surprise and were moving their shields in the way. Anastasia fired twice more and killed one of the Jackal but the second shot hit a shield. Anastasia aimed for another shot but a great force slammed into her. Her head hit the rock and she found herself face to face with the Elite. It growled out something in its language and Anastasia knew the shots in her pistol wouldn't be enough. She went to the first thought that came to mind, although if her thoughts were more logical she might second guess her plan. She pulled out her frag grenade, pulled the pin, put a hand not the back of the Elite's head, and, before it could stop her, shoved the grenade into its mouth. The Elite released her and stepped back to pull the grenade out. Anastasia tried to turn away but the grenade went off before she could fully turn. The grenade went off, peppering the area with shrapnel and heat. Anastasia felt new pain as she fell to the ground, the explosion having knocked her through a loop.

Anastasia heard light steps nearby and looked over to see the food of a Jackal near her head. The alien knelt down, trying to see if she was still alive. Anastasia had no energy to do anything and the jackal leaned back before a needled came into view. She closed her eyes and accepted that she wasn't able to stop what was about to happen. She heard a gunshot and a body hit the ground. Heavy steps rushed across the ground and she heard them slid to a halt near her. A voice cursed and her eyes snapped open as she knew it was human. She was rolled over and an ODST helmet came into view. A hand moved to her shoulder and the soldier looked back and spoke to another. Anastasia lifted her hand and gripped the forearm of the ODST above her. His head shot back to her placed a hand on hers. He shouted something but it was lost as Anastasia succumbed to exhaustion and blood loss.

When Anastasia woke up in the ship's infirmary. She had burns, fractures, and cuts but most of them had been healed. She'd lost a lot of blood and been out for nearly a day. They'd already lost the planet and had gone into slip space. Anastasia felt awful, and it wasn't just because of her physical pain. She hadn't done anything on the mission other than nearly die. She made her way back to the barracks, hoping that the taunts from her fellow marines wouldn't be too bad. She paused outside the room for a second and prepared herself for the teasing before she walked in.

As soon as she entered the room two people grabbed her. She automatically fought against them but the two of them were too strong. She hadn't fully recovered and they easily pulled her over to a cot and pinned her down and another pushed her shirt up along her back. "Stop struggling." Anastasia looked over to see Sarge standing to the side. "You don't want him to screw up the lines."

Anastasia heard a buzzing behind her and she recognized the sound. She felt the familiar pain and relaxed, not wanting to screw up whatever they were tattooing on her back. The marines sat in silence while one of them worked. "Can someone tell me what is being tattooed on my back?"

"We're fixing your other tattoo," XO answered. He sat down where Anastasia could see him and she felt a bit of panic. She knew she hadn't done well on their first mission but they couldn't remove her wolf tattoo. "Your pod was on fire," XO said, glancing back at the man who was tattooing Anastasia's back. "I don't know how but you survived it." Anastasia shrugged a bit but didn't verbally respond. "I've seen pods catch fire but never seen a soldier survive. The pod is unforgiving but I've never seen it be defied."

"All finished," the marine on her back said and she felt his weight move away. Anastasia sat up and a marine moved a mirror over so she could look at it. She was surprised by what she saw. They had tattooed flames around the wolf head that was on her back and wrote ODST below it. "So what do you think?"

"I don't understand," Anastasia admitted. "I didn't do anything other than have my pod screw up on that mission?"

"You didn't screw up. A Hell Jumper doesn't decide for their pod to malfunction, it just does," Sarge said. "You survived, and killed a few Covenant. You did fine." He smiled slightly. "You'll make up for it next time, Fire. Though if you can kill a patrol in that condition I look forward to what you can do when in fighting shape." Anastasia furrowed her brow, confused for a moment until it dawned on her. He hadn't called her Novara, Private, or Princess. "All right, Wolves, head to cryo. Not you, Fire. Pacifists said that you needed to recover or it would do damage to your wounds." He placed a hand on her shoulder for a second as he passed her. "Get some rest."

"Yes, sir." Anastasia watched as her team left and she was left alone in the room. She stood from the cot and moved into the bathroom, once more lifting her shirt enough to see the tattoo on her back. She smiled, feeling a bit of pride. Her wolf now looked like a proper ODST tattoo and it meant a bit more that her teammates had done it. The new ink hurt but she didn't mind it, it was worth it. Anastasia moved back into the barracks and lay down on her cot, chest down. She relaxed into the warmth of her cot and let sleep take her and ease away the ache and exhaustion.


	5. Sister

Sister

John entered the barracks, standing tall and with his face neutral. Eight eyes turned toward him but he kept himself composed. Their barracks were clean though he noticed that there wasn't much personalization to their spaces. He was used to soldiers personalizing the places they slept, but maybe the Spartan IV were more Spartan than he realized. They seemed surprised to see a Spartan II in a combat uniform and he seemed to stand out with them all in casual clothingThey all just watched him, waiting for him to say something. He turned toward one of the women. "Spartan Novara, I need to speak to you."

"What did you do now?" one of the men asked. The female Spartan shot a glare at him but didn't say anything.

John led her out of the room and down a hallway to an empty room. There was a screen that showed Earth and the stars around it. He looked to the comfortable chairs for people to relax on. "Have a seat if you want," he said, motioning to the chairs. The woman remained standing. John sighed and considered how to start. He wished that Kelly was here but she refused to join him. He wished he'd been able to convince her but she had been set in her decision.

"Can you just tell me what you want with me?" The woman asked. She didn't seem at all intimidated by him but maybe that was because ranks were foggy with the Spartan IV. Sure, each team had a handler in ops and there was Commander Palmer, but everyone else was just Spartan. No rank, just Spartan. John still wasn't sure where that left him in the ranking structure, not that it really mattered with him out of action.

"Your name is Anastasia Novara?" The woman simply nodded. "Do you know who I am?" John asked.

"Yeah, you're Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan one-one- seven. The big hero and legend." The Spartan IV seemed unimpressed by his reputation. Maybe that would make this easier, or harder.

"That's not exactly what I mean," John clarified. "My name is John." He frowned, not sure what to say next. The woman just stared at him, seeming bored. "A long time ago, a little over forty years ago I was John Novara."

"Yeah, I sort of figured that." Anastasia crossed her arms, her stance defensive. "You look just like the ass hole," she muttered. "So what do you want?"

John was caught a bit off guard. He hadn't expected her to be so blunt, or the agitation. He suddenly regretted his actions, thinking he should have never tried to meet her. "I don't really know", he admitted. He really didn't know where to go from here and her anger was more than he had expected. "I…they brought up our history in court and I looked into it. I wanted to know how my father became a rebel. Then I found out that I had a sister and I dug into that. I didn't expect you to be a Spartan." Anastasia scowled at that and John realized his misstep. "That is with him being a rebel I didn't expect you to be a soldier."

"Yeah well I'm nothing like my father," Anastasia assured him. "He's a traitor that only cares about himself and revenge. That still doesn't explain why you wanted to talk to me."

"I can't explain it," John admitted. "I just felt like I should. Our mother died when Reach was attacked and our father stands on the opposite side from us. I guess I just know what it's like to have your family gone or missing and wanted to…I don't know, offer you some family you agree with." John looked the woman over, realizing how different they were. She slouched and was visibly unhappy while he stood straight and she likely couldn't see the emotions he felt. It was odd to him that they were siblings but so different. "I'm sorry, I seem to be making you angry. That was not my intention."

"I'm not angry at you, I just hate your face," Anastasia clarified.

"So you're mad because I look like our father?" John asked. "Do you really hate him that much for being a rebel?" He wasn't happy with his father as a rebel but he wasn't particularly mad at the man. Maybe it was because although he referred to him as their father John didn't really feel that connection to him.

"I don't hate him because he's a rebel. I hate him for other reasons," Anastasia corrected. "I should hate you, you know? I should want you dead and hate you with every cell of my body."

"Then why don't you?" John asked. He had fully been expecting that hating him was an option for her. He had been expecting it even.

Anastasia looked away from him and let out a frustrated sigh. "Because I guess I'm more jealous of you. I don't give a shit about you being a Spartan or being the all mighty Master Chief. I'm jealous that you got out of our damn family. Besides, it's not like you ever did anything to me. I can't blame you for the actions of others."

John didn't know exactly what to say, he didn't really understand. Was their father really that bad? He was once more caught with no idea how to push forward. He wanted to ask what their father had done that was so bad but it felt like asking a random person on the street about it. Still, there was no other option that he could think of, or maybe his curiosity was just causing him to see no other option. "What did he do?"

Anastasia narrowed her gaze but still didn't turn toward him. "Why do you care? Just be glad you don't know." She finally turned to look at him. "Be glad that you didn't have to go through any of it." She let her arms fall to her side. "Is there anything else?"

John frowned and tried to come up with something. He didn't want her to leave, he wanted her to stay. He didn't like that he had more questions than he'd had when they had started talking. Anastasia shrugged, giving up, and turned to walk away. "Wait." John didn't even really know why he was stopping her. She didn't want him in her life and he didn't want to force himself into her life, but here he was, forcing her to stop from walking away.

He reached out, his hand grabbing her wrist just tight enough to keep her from moving away. Anastasia froze and John saw her flinch. He didn't understand why but he did realize that the skin under his fingers wasn't smooth. John looked down to the woman's wrist and slowly turned his hand so he could see her wrist. Her arms were covered with scars, some of them obviously from shrapnel, some that seemed a bit too clean, but he was mainly focused on the straight scar directly along her wrist. John furrowed his brow, not understanding exactly why it bothered him. It was just a scar, like all soldiers who had fought in the war. There was something different though about this one. Whoever had stitched it hadn't taken care of the injuries properly and they were lumpy and the skin was rougher than John would have expected. He looked over to her other wrist and could see that there was a matching scar on her other wrist. "Where did you get those?"

Anastasia tugged her arm away but John held on. "It's none of your business." She tugged again and he released her wrist. She gripped her wrist protectively and took a step away from him. There was anger in her eyes but there he could swear there was a hint of fear under it. John put up his hands to show that he was making no move to touch her or had ill intentions. "I don't know you well enough."

John nodded, accepting her wishes for him to back off. "I will not intrude or push too hard on things you don't wish to speak about. I do apologize for any trouble I've caused you, now or in the past, and will not stop you if you wish to leave."

Anastasia looked down toward the floor and let out a long breath. "I told you, you didn't directly do anything," she corrected. "I just…I don't understand what you want from me? Why you want to talk to me? You don't have any obligation to have anything to do with me just because of some stupid genetics."

"I understand that," John assured her. "But I want to know you. Your record is good but rather repetitive. Not very informative." John watched her as he spoke; looking for any sign that he was angering her. "I would like to get to know you."

"I don't understand why," Anastasia said. "Why would you want to know anything about me? My life is boring. Years of the war, drops, killing Covies, and then I became a Spartan IV. Nothing all that interesting."

John wasn't particularly happy that he didn't seem to be making progress. "Then will you tell me why you hate our father so much? I know you think I don't want to know but I want to know. If it is my fault I have a right to know what I caused."

"You sure have a damn lot of questions without much right to ask. I don't care if you're the root cause, I don't want to talk about it so I won't, and you won't find it out from any other way, he made sure of that." Anastasia crossed her arms, defiant. It was a bit odd to John as most soldiers were intimidated by a Spartan II.

John was starting to get slightly frustrated with how combative the woman was being. He decided that if she wanted combative he would be combative. "I don't see how I have no right to ask these things. If I caused problems I want to know about them. I want to know what kind of a man our father was. Your record says you make regular trips to a military psychologist, and you have for years. Your enlistment interview file says that there were already indications of mental stress from before you became a soldier that only got worse over the years, so much so that your ability to remain a soldier was questioned after the end of the war."

Anger sparked through Anastasia's eyes and she walked over to John. She moved and John braced for a hit, surprised when it came in the form of her hand slapping his face. He was stunned by the action and the anger that he seem to have brought up. "How care you say that. For someone who claims they want to get to know me you sure seem to be trying to get me to just walk away. Why won't you just let this go?"

"Because I keep thinking about it. The lack of information, the mental issues, the fact that he's become a rebel. I don't understand how it all fits together, but I want to know. I'm partially the cause of all of this, of whatever broke you mentally. I want to know if I can fix it," John explained.

"I'm not broken," Anastasia asserted. "There is nothing wrong with me and I don't need fixing," she nearly shouted, her breathing becoming deeper and he could see her anger rising. "If anyone here is broken it's you."

John tensed at that accusation. It was the same thing that was being argued in court and here he was hearing it from his sister. "I'm not broken either."

"Oh really?" Anastasia was tense and she suddenly lifted her arms so he could see the scars along her wrists. "Most people, even broken ones, know what these are from. If you don't know maybe you're broken worse than even someone like me." She suddenly took several steps back and turned her arms to hide the scars. John once more saw the mix of anger and fear on her face.

John didn't know how to respond. No, he didn't know what the scars meant, and he wasn't sure what that said about him. John didn't like the sort of pain that was coming up from her accusation. It was like having all the pain brought up in court but all at once. He didn't like how this woman was able to hurt him so easily, family or not. John watched her for a moment before he finally spoke again. "What are they from?" Anastasia looked away from him and took another step away. She seemed like a wounded dog, scared but ready to strike if he got to close. "I don't know what they're from, but that doesn't mean I'm broken. It just means that I've never been confronted with the cause."

"Lucky you," Anastasia grumbled. She sighed but still refused to look at him. "You really want to know what our father was like?" She turned to look at him and John nodded. "He was an ass," she began. "He was neglectful, never really cared about me. I can't remember a time he wasn't a rebel and that was all he cared about. I hate him because he never made time for family, too busy trying to destroy the UNSC to do school functions or take his kid to the park."

John frowned at her words. "That's only half true."

"It's the most truth you're going to get out of me," Anastasia said as she turned and moved for the door.

This time John didn't try to stop her, letting the woman walk out of the door. He remained in the silence for several minutes before he finally left, heading to the hanger where he caught one of the Pelicans down to the planet. He couldn't figure out what part of what Anastasia had said was a lie and what was truth. He thought about it and the scars on the ride down and the entire drive across base. He only stopped thinking about it once he entered his house.

John moved into the kitchen and sat down at the table. He set his forearms on the table and leaned on them, letting his mind consider what information he might have over looked. He just didn't understand it, and still couldn't figure out what Anastasia had kept from him.

"It didn't go well?" Kelly asked. John looked up to see her standing in the doorway. "Tell me what happened." She sat down across from him at the table.

"She was… combative. She refused to answer questions, claimed I was better off not knowing." John sat up a bit and realized that the answer was sitting before him. John was not well versed in more common things but Kelly was. "She said that she hated our father because he was neglectful but that was only a half truth. She had these scars." John moved his arms to show Kelly his wrists and then traced where the scars were. "I don't know what they meant but there was something about them."

Kelly's hands moved out and rested on his wrists. He looked up and could see that something was troubling her. "John, tell me what happened from the beginning." John recounted his meeting with Anastasia, trying to repeat her words exactly so Kelly could properly examine them. She listened and nodded but he could see that she understood better than him. When he finished she turned her gaze to her hands still on his wrist. "First, if you want her not to hate you calling her broken was a bad idea."

"I know," John admitted. "At least apologizing gives me a way to start a new conversation. What I need to know is what she is keeping from me."

Kelly's gaze was distant as her fingers gently moved over his skin. "John, have you considered that she's trying to do you a kindness? Whatever she's keeping from you seems to be directly connected to the Spartan II project and she's trying to save you from the guilt."

John frowned, dissatisfied with her response. "But I want to know. It is partially my responsibility. When I cause harm to others, whether on purpose or by accident, I still want to know. Remember when you sprained your ankle. That wasn't directly because of my actions but it was still my responsibility and I had a right to know I'd caused it. This is the same situation."

Kelly let out a long breath and relented. "Fine, I'll tell you what information you're missing but the actual story you'll have to convince her to tell you. I can't be sure with the given information of a situation but there are hints to possibility. Are you sure you want to know?" John nodded and Kelly continued. Her fingers traced over his wrists where the scars had been on Anastasia. "Scars like those are usually from self-harm or attempted suicide. Why she did that I can't say for sure, only she knows."

John was stunned, not sure what to make of the new information. He found it hard to wrap his head around the concept. He remembered the fear under her anger and considered that it might be true. "So what do I do?" John wasn't sure where to go from here with this new information.

"We'll you've got two options really," Kelly answered. You can either accept her fake story and her act of kindness, leaving that part if it all in the past and trying to make a bond with her now. Or you can just stubbornly focus on trying to figure out what she's not telling you and confront her about it probably causing her to get mad at you. You and I both know what you'll choose to do." John looked to the table top and sighed, knowing as well what choice he would make.


	6. Numb

Numb

Anastasia stared out the window of her room, watching the rain slid down the glass. The skies were dark and there seemed to be no end in sight. Most twelve-year-olds would still be outside despite the rain, running around and splashing in the puddles. Anastasia had never liked he rain. She didn't like being soaked in cold water, she preferred being warm and dry. She liked sunny days for playing, not that she wanted to play. The cloudy sky above felt more attune to her gloomy disposition anyway.

Anastasia's finger ran over the bandages on her wrist, wishing she could just tear them off. The stitches underneath itched and she'd give anything to just be able to scratch them to her heart's content. She didn't dare remove them, though. Her father was furious enough at her and she didn't want to incur his wrath again. Her bruises hadn't healed completely from the last time and she didn't want him to add more. She was sure he wouldn't hesitate. The man who had seen up her wrists had seller to suggest it. "Suicide is the action of the weak," the man had said as he used needle and thread, sitting at his kitchen table, to see the cuts. "Maybe you should toughen your child up more and she would t be doing things like this." That comment had angered Anastasia. He had t numbed her, didn't take any care not to jab the needle sharply into her skin, but she never made a sound. She wondered what this man knew of pain, or being weak.

She watched a single drop of rain trail down the window and she remembered the red liquid flowing from her wrists. She couldn't remember ever actually connecting her pain with the liquid or identifying it as blood. She remembered the knife in her hand, the way the blood had coated her hand causing the cut on her right wrist to be uneven and jagged. The one on her left wrist had been straight and cleaner, well as clean as she could have made it. She remembered trying to keep her hands over the sink so she didn't make too much of a mess. She couldn't help worry about how mad her father would be if she got blood all over the bathroom. She hadn't counted on how light headed the blood loss had made her, or collapsing and hitting her head on the toilet. She should have sat down. Maybe they wouldn't have found her if she'd just sat down. She hadn't had the ability to think of that as she'd bleed and had t even considered that at some point her strength would wane to a point she couldn't stand.

The man who had seen her up had said something about the cuts only being to get attention. Anastasia didn't understand that. Attention was the last thing she wanted, she'd rather be forgotten, left alone. She'd he'd made some sort of motion down his arm but she didn't really understand what he'd been saying as her head was still fuzzy so she hadn't understood the bigger words. She hated that man who her father had taken her to. He talked and acted like her father, called her actions a disgrace. He was only fueling the anger of her father, people like him always did. They both acted like they knew what she'd done, why, but they had no idea.

Her father had refused to take her to a hospital. He'd grumbled explanations about the police getting involved and him wanting to stay out of their business. He was always so paranoid but for the first time she saw that he truly didn't care about her. He was so focused on the police and keeping them out of their lives that he wouldn't even take her to an actual doctor. The things they'd said, he made it clear that he wasn't worried about her, simply how people would look at their family because of her. Anastasia had always feared her father, been emotionally and physically hurt by him, but for the first time she felt hatred. He didn't care about saving her life because he had a shred of love for her, just didn't want the stigma of a dead child. Though he wasn't so worried about her dying that he took her to someone that was even a vet. From the mounted animals in the mans home Anastasia would have guessed he was a taxidermist.

The door to Anastasia's room opened and she turned to see her mother place a bowl on her dresser. Anastasia waited until the woman left before she stood, retrieving the bowel. She made her way back to the window, opening it just a bit. Anastasia poured out most of the slip before pulling the bowl back in. She set the nearly empty bowl on the table beside her and curled back up on the cushioned window seat. Hopefully her parents would be tricked enough by the empty bowl that they'd think she was eating. She hadn't been eating at first, or trying to hide it, but that had gotten anger from her father and words from her mother that she'd tuned out. Since then she'd been tossing away part of her food to make it look like she was eating. Anastasia had tried eating the first day but she'd vomited it right back up. Since then she'd nibbled at some of her food but it had made her feel sick so she had stopped. She'd eat again, eventually, but right now even thinking of it made her uneasy.

Until then she'd switch before sleeping on her bed and sitting in her window. She wasn't allowed outside and her mother had said there were too many sharp objects in the rest of the house. Anastasia found it ridiculous that they thought she'd try again. Now they'd be watching and if she tried she wouldn't stand a chance. They'd catch her before the job was done. She wasn't allowed outside because someone might see her bandages and ask questions, so that couldn't be allowed. She was only allowed out of her room to go to the bathroom of which she now had to keep the door open. Anastasia knew this would pass, it was only temporary until they could at least take the bandages off, then she'd be let out.

Anastasia stood and moved over to the bed, reaching between the mattress and the base, grabbing the scrap of cloth. She crawled up on her bed and lay down. She ran her fingers over the image of the eagle on the cloth before she shoved it down her shirt. She curled up on the sheets and made herself comfortable, or as comfortable as she could be, curled around the cloth.


	7. Bunny

**Bunny**

Anastasia had never had a pet before, so she'd been surprised when her father had shown her the little baby bunny and informed her she'd be taking care of it. Over the weeks that followed she learned to feed, groom, and check the bunny for health issues. Her father had told her not to name the animal, but she couldn't help but decide to call the black and white spotted rabbit "Patches". Though she only called him that when she was alone, he was always just "the rabbit" in front of her father. Anastasia watched as the little ball of fluff became a soft, gentle adult bunny. She hadn't really made any friends since they'd come to Reach, but she felt a kinship with Patches. Her father kept the rabbit in a cage at all times, and Anastasia would have liked to let him out and hold him, but she couldn't risk Patches getting away. That would be a surefire way to anger her father. Still, the bunny was the closest thing to a friend that Anastasia had. He was excited to see her when she came to feed him, and he would sit still and let her pet his soft fur. She loved Patches like she'd never loved anything before…and then she made a mistake. Then she called him Patches when her father was around.

It seemed strange to see Patches outside of his cage, but here he was in the open, sitting on the grass. He stared at her with those big black eyes, his body shaking in fear - maybe from being on grass for the first time, or maybe because of the club that was in Anastasia's hand. Patches had been so excited when Anastasia had come to the cage, but she hadn't shared the enthusiasm. Her father grabbed Patches by the scruff of his neck and roughly had carried him away. Anastasia had followed, biting back the urge to plead for mercy for the bunny. Her father tied patches by the leg to a stick, and had given Anastasia the club. Patches had struggled at first but when he realized he was not going to get away, he curled up and just sat, trembling. Anastasia's father had commanded her to hit the rabbit with the club, to kill it. She was sure Patches didn't understand the threat really, but still instinctively knew danger when he saw it.

Anastasia didn't understand why she was being made to do this, it didn't make any sense. She had never killed any animal before and she didn't want to, least of all Patches. She could see her own fear mirrored back in the marble-black eyes of the bunny before her. How could she possibly bring herself to kill the helpless little animal? But she knew if she didn't her father would be mad, and her back was still healing from the last time she'd disobeyed him. Was avoiding that pain worth killing Patches? She didn't think so. She didn't understand why Patches needed to be killed at all. He was well behaved, he didn't eat that much, and he didn't make any noise. There was no reason for Patches to die.

"Kill it," her father growled. He looked over her like a shadow of death, demanding her to do as she was told. "Kill it."

"But I don't understand why," Anastasia tried to argue. "It didn't do anything to make it a problem, so why do I need to kill it?"

"Are you questioning orders?" Her father barked.

"No, sir, only trying to understand your orders." She fought not to cringe away from him. She was bracing herself for a smack or a strike of some kind for speaking up.

"It is not your job to understand your orders, only complete them," Her father informed her. "You've been told to kill it so that is what you'll do. It doesn't matter if it's done anything wrong, it has to die. This rabbit is tonight's dinner." His words horrified Anastasia. It made her feel sick to think that anyone would eat the gentle bunny. "It has to die for something more important, for dinner."

Anastasia didn't think that was a good enough reason. There was plenty of meat in their house, beef and pork, and she didn't have to kill anything to get that. She would rather not eat than kill Patches, but still she didn't see a way out. Her father would be furious with her if she didn't do what he was ordering, but she didn't know how she'd feel if she killed the bunny. Anastasia weighed how willing she was to risk her father's wrath, and how reluctant she was to kill Patches.

"What are you waiting for? You have your orders, now follow them." Her father's voice was low and threatening, a warning of the possible consequences of disobedience.

Anastasia focused only on Patches, and the fear that she could tell was rolling off the bunny. She frowned as she realized that she was just as afraid as Patches was, and that she was the source of the bunny's fear. Anastasia let her hand go limp and the club fell to the ground.

She didn't see the hand coming, but the force knocked Anastasia off her feet. "Useless child!" her father spat. Anastasia heard a thump and it was followed by the most horrifying sound she'd ever heard. It was like a banshee screaming, a high-pitched cry that struck down to Anastasia's bones. She rolled over to look at her father and realized that the scream was coming from Patches. The first hit hadn't killed the bunny, and it was now screaming in pain and terror. Her father raised the club again and Anastasia acted.

She threw herself at his arm, trying to stop him from striking Patches again. He batted her away with ease and Anastasia fell on her rear. Her father struck Patches a few more times before he finally stopped. Her father stood and turned to Anastasia. She could see the fury in his eyes and knew that she was in trouble. He stood up and reached down, grabbing Patches by the ears. Anastasia scrambled to her feet and did the dumbest thing yet - she dashed to her father and grabbed the bunny's lifeless body. She wrapped her arms around it and pulled it from his grasp, but stumbled and fell back down onto the ground. She instinctively curled up protectively around Patches.

Her father pulled at her arms, trying to pry her off of the bunny, but she held tight. Anastasia cried out as he yanked on her wrist and pain shot through it. But she remained wrapped around the corpse, even as her father hit her and tugged at her arms, trying to get her to let go. She wasn't sure how long he tried to separate her and the dead rabbit, but he eventually grew tired. Anastasia didn't dare look up, and just stayed huddled until she heard him stomp away. She knew that when she went back to the house things were going to be bad, but she still had to take care of Patches first.

Anastasia cautiously got to her feet. Her cheek and wrist hurt, and she could feel a bit of blood on her forehead from where it had been scratched when she fell down. She found a place near some trees that seemed to have soft soil and she dug at the ground until she had made a hole that was deep enough. She sat under the tree, cradling the body of Patches in her arms, wondering what it would have been like to hold the bunny when he'd still been warm. She buried her friend in the hole she'd dug, but didn't mark the grave. She was afraid her father would find it and then dig up Patches just to spite her, to punish her.

The sun was low in the sky when she finally decided to go back home. She made sure to scrape off the dirt from her shoes and hands before she entered the back door of the house. Her mother was in the kitchen, but didn't even look in Anastasia's direction when she entered the room. She knew where her father would be, and she knew she couldn't avoid what was going to happen. She stepped into the living room where her father was waiting for her. She wouldn't run, and she wasn't ashamed of what she'd done; but she did fear what she knew was coming.


End file.
